


Lost in Time

by TheLampPost



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLampPost/pseuds/TheLampPost
Summary: They're stuck in the 20th century, and things happen.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. The Night Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after Coda but before season 4.

**Chapter 1: The Night Sky**

They didn’t know much about 20th century Earth; nothing about cars, even less about television or social customs that were native to that time. Honestly, apart from the scientific breakthroughs they didn’t know much of _anything_ of value pertaining to the era. The 20th century had always been Tom Paris’ department, his obsession and not so secret passion. But Tom’s knowledge, along with the man himself, were currently inhabiting the 24th century, which was roughly about four hundreds years from their temporal location. Information that was neither very helpful nor of much use to them in their current predicament

  
Time.  
  


Such a tricky concept.

  
He’d been stuck in temporal displacement anomalies before, mentally as well as physically, and now it had hurled them both backwards to a place in time that was as uncommon to him as it was to her. 

  
“The Temporal Integrity Commission is taking its sweet time.”

  
“Captain?”

  
She shook her head and a strand of hair fell across her face, casting a shadow across her already dimmed features. 

  
“I was just thinking of Braxton. I never thought I’d say it, but, I’d give just about anything to see his sorry ass again.”

  
He smiled, and looked down, his attention caught by the flickering of the fire light casting familiar shadows on the ground between them. At least they were warm, and fed.

  
It had been two days; two days of wandering about in search of civilization. According to their tricorder readings they were getting closer, though. Sometime tomorrow afternoon they’d stumble upon a small city or town approximately 30 miles due north of their current location.

  
“I don’t suppose the TIC would find anything anomalous about two humans wandering about the Scottish Highlands in the 20th century,” he said. 

  
She shook her head, her lips and frown caught between an expression of amusement and frustration as she tucked the rebellious lock of hair back behind her ear.

  
It had always been harder for Kathryn to juggle the occasional odd curveball that life threw at her, which, admittedly had been coming harder and faster at increasingly regular intervals, lately. As for himself, he’d learned early in life that it was better to just roll with the punches, making the best out of any given situation. After all, things could have been a hell of a lot worse. For example, he could have gotten himself stuck with Chell on the Cochrane, and events might have turned out very differently. A vagrant Bolian stuck in pre-warp society, now _that_ would have been a real disaster. 

  
“Look,” he began. “If I know our crew, and I’d like to think I do, they’re currently working overtime combing the Delta Quadrant for any sign of us, not giving up until they’ve turned over every asteroid and nebula in the vicinity.”

  
She looked up at him then, eyes full of sorrow.

  
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re not in the Delta Quadrant, we’re not even in the same century anymore.”

  
Wasn’t that the truth, though?

  
He reached for her hand, and she hardly flinched at his touch, her thoughts further away than the farthest planet in the night sky.

  
“I’m sure they’ll find the temporal displacement anomaly that brought us here, Kathryn. They won’t give up that easily, and neither should we.”

  
He shifted closer, and more stray hairs caught his attention; they had stubbornly disentangled themselves from the two days old debacle of a bun that still sat atop her head in all of its obstinately askew glory. In an impulse he reached for the clip that desperately held it all together, and pulled. She flinched and jerked away from his touch, face level to his, hair cascading down around her shoulders, and he liked it that way. He’d always liked it better that way. 

  
“Sorry,” he said.

  
She slowly shook her head; he was too close, mere inches away, and hadn’t that always been the issue? Inch by inch, drawing closer all the time, dancing to the tune of a song that forbade them to touch, to feel, to care too deeply….

  
She inhaled sharply then turned away; inches gaining on the space between them, and suddenly she was out of reach again.

  
He hated the dance; he hated it with a passion.

  
“I suggest we get some rest. We have a long day of walking ahead of us tomorrow,” she said. 

  
It was all he could do to hide his disappointment, forcing down his expectations, inwardly reprimanding himself for having any at all.

  
“Aye, Captain,” he said, unable to hide the bitterness that wound itself around the C and spilled over out onto the remaining syllables.

  
“Goodnight, Chakotay,” she whispered.

  
“Goodnight,” he paused, the bitterness draining out of him instantly. “Goodnight, Kathryn.”  
  


* * *

_A/N: There's much more to come..._


	2. Inverness

Inverness in the 1960s was beautiful, intriguing, and infinitely more mysterious than she could have ever imagined. She’d never afforded it a single thought before, not even in the 24th century, when Earth, its lakes and mountains had been just a transporter beam away. The world at her fingertips, and she, deaf to its call. Young and ambitious, she’d only ever had eyes for what lay beyond. 

She had no choice but to acclimate to this odd situation now. Over the past couple of weeks, Inverness had become their new reality, and transporter technology was now a futuristic fantasy that only existed in science-fiction television shows and their own respective memories.

Old Scottish ruins that belonged to the “now”, and the Early Modern era suddenly lay resurrected before them, shaped by what her senses deemed to be the truth, but what felt like a badly written holonovel all at once. She couldn’t quite make herself believe that what she was experiencing was not just a recreation of photons, light, energy and force fields. Instead, all of it reminded her of ancient post cards, or pictures taken on phones of the 21st century, when phones were like third limbs. 

Chakotay hadn’t had as much troubles fitting in. True to his nature, he was a man of the present, and had quickly embraced every part of this extraordinary temporal displacement disaster. He’d done his best to blend into the time period, albeit with rudimentary knowledge of the 20th century. At first, they’d stumbled about, learning on their feet, and applying whatever basic knowledge they had of a to them mostly unfamiliar part of “history”. But even when they failed miserably, said the wrong things or used futuristic expressions no laddie or lassie had ever heard of, they had no fear of being found out. No one would ever believe their story, and most Scots chalked their “oddness” up to them being “Americans”, a nationality that carried more weight in this century than it did in theirs. 

Despite the fact that the Cochrane had burned up in the atmosphere when they crash landed onto the planet, they’d found ways to make do. Upon arrival they had only had their tricorders, phasers and combages. Not much, but enough for them to make a living in a time when money was said “to make the world go round”. Either they forged their own, or found lost coins of immense archeological value in abandoned fields where tricorder readers suggested they search. It so turned out that many of Earth’s mysteries still lay undiscovered in fields and dirt of old. Chakotay deeply revered each new discovery, golden plates and ancient coins that would have otherwise ended up in 20th century museums, they sold to antique stores located on abandoned street corners. It pained him, but survival had to come first. 

After three weeks of digging up treasures, he finally found some peace, and had begun his own personal project. Unbeknownst to her he’d acquired a small piece of land and was currently in the midst of building a cottage on the outskirts of town. She found out, though he didn’t know she knew. 

She silently came to admire his resilient nature, but she resented it too.

For weeks he’d been working tirelessly, assisting her to find a way back to Voyager during the day, but returning to his project in the early mornings and late evenings when regulations demanded they take a breather, to just live their lives as best they could, and he was doing just that. 

As for her, she hadn’t been as comfortable letting go. She kept looking for that one star in the sky that proved to be out of place. Constantly, wishing for a day that might never come, and chained to a position that she couldn’t tear herself away from. It frustrated him, and it had driven an invisible wedge between them.

It frustrated her that he could move on so effortlessly, be enchanted so swiftly by a world that seemed primitive in her eyes. What he didn’t know was that she would occasionally track him down, and watch him work in the twilight, come morning or evening; and slowly but surely, she decided that she also envied the man she saw there; at peace with himself and the world.

“How long have you been married, lassie?” Siobhán, the owner of the hotel they’d been staying at, asked her on a particularly warm and sunny morning.

“Excuse me?” she almost choked on her coffee (which she thanked the stars existed in this time, and was infinitely more satisfying than anything her replicator had ever fed her on Voyager.)

“How long you and the handsome lad been married?”

“Uh—hah,” she gasped.

Sudden arms wound around her waist, and pulled her close to a warm soft chest that could only belong to one person.

“Just,” she heard him answer, the echo of a smile in his voice.

The abruptness of the gesture left her unprepared, and she felt herself grow unpleasantly weak at the knees. Her fingernails dug into his arm in response as to keep herself from slipping. She heard him wince, but his breath still rushed hot across her ear as he said: “In fact, we’re on our honeymoon, Siobhán. Did we not tell you?

This time her coffee really did go down the wrong pipe, and as she coughed her way through an apology, Chakotay thanked Siobhán for her services, and pulled Kathryn out the door that led directly to the hotel gardens, cup and saucer in hand.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, as soon as she’d put the cup and saucer down on the closest available surface. Resorting to her signature stance: squared shoulders, hands in hips, she gave him a stern look.

He chuckled, not the least bit intimidated by her indignation. 

“What were you going to tell her?” he countered.

She stared. 

“The truth?” he asked.

“Would that have been such a leap?”

“In this era?” he said. “Yes, it would have been. We’ve been sharing a hotel room for the past couple of weeks; you really want to arouse suspicion by telling the gossipy hotel owner that I’ve been sleeping on the complimentary couch all this time? For what reason, exactly? Men and women our age cannot share a room in this time and not be more than friends, Kathryn. It’s frowned upon, we haven’t quite made it to the end of the 20th century, yet.”

She blinked; he was right. She’d been so caught up in her own scientific research that she hadn’t bothered with any of the facts, norms and values of this time. It was Earth, she figured she didn’t have to, she knew her people, and while, from an anthropological standpoint that was true to a certain degree, there were also other customs and rules she had not yet familiarized herself with.

For all the time she spent locked up in their hotel room, avoiding nearly every possible social encounter; it had given her little to no insight into the lives of the people of 1969. But, Chakotay had done his research, and he had done it well. While she’d silently continued to hold out hope; he’d learned the customs and rules for the both of them.

She sighed.

She should have seen the signs; whenever they had been out and about he’d been standing closer to her, touched her more frequently. But she’d brushed it off; too caught up in thoughts of the future. What’s more, she’d felt confident that their working relationship had continued to be more than professional. The touching she could chalk up to unconscious friendly gestures meant to reassure her. She hadn’t allowed herself to believe anything beyond that, she hadn’t let herself live in the present for one second; she wouldn’t. Not if they were to ever get back.

But now she had to.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s the only acceptable explanation.”

And a terrible idea.

“We need to de…”

“Define parameters?” he interrupted.

“We --”, he raised his hand.

“Please, Kathryn.”

“Look, if we’re going to pass ourselves off as newlyweds, we need to set some ground rules. I’m sure you agree.”

He shrugged.

“We’ve been doing just fine without any ‘ground rules’ so far.”

“I just don’t want us to…” she paused. “Get uncomfortable in potentially undesirable situations.”

He chuckled

“Undesirable?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Is this going to be a problem, commander?” She pulled rank on him.

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly turning away before confronting her head on.

“Do you ever think about it?”

“What?”

“New Earth.”

Blunt. Very blunt. She hadn't been prepared for the conversation to veer into that particular direction. They’d never brought it up once in the year since it had happened. Was he really expecting her to get into the particulars now? Here?

She looked away, bit down hard on her bottom lip.

“I try not to.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He shook his head.

“You assume too much," he took a step closer. "I don’t know what you're thinking half the time. On Voyager you never allowed anyone to get closer than a smile. After New Earth you completely shut me out the moment we slipped back into our respective roles, and I let you, because I know what it's like, Kathryn," he motioned between the two of them. "To feel the weight of command on your shoulders, to put their needs ahead of your own; I know it, and that's exactly why I've always had such deep respect for you. But we're not out there, right now," he pointed to the sky. "We might never be again; so I'm asking you," he firmly pressed his hand to her chest. "Why?" 

She sighed, and looked him square in the eye, moved by his frankness, touched by his words. 

“If Tuvok hadn’t…” she began, fighting to find the right words, while all they did was fail her. Truth be told, she didn’t know what would have happened had Tuvok not contacted them when he had, but she had a fair idea of what might have happened.

“I can’t allow myself to dwell on “what ifs” as the captain of a starship. You know that,” she answered, by way of explanation.

“I'm not asking the captain; I'm asking the woman behind the mask.”

She clenched her teeth hard, before speaking. 

“Please, don’t.”

“Why?” he reemphasized, but it was more of a demand; a shattering of unspoken agreements.

“I could never take it back,” she whispered. 

“Damnit, Kathryn,” he rubbed a hand across his face out of pure frustration. “I cannot sacrifice the present for a future that may never come again, don’t ask me to wait indefinitely.”

Her shoulders slackened, the revelation painfully tugging at her heartstrings, tightening the knot in her stomach further. How many lines were they going to cross in this place? How many unspoken words would be left unspoken?

For a brief moment he looked away, immense fields lay beyond the hotel gardens and the summer air crackled with renewed excitement, betraying the coming of dawn behind the hills.

He looked back and pinned her to the ground with an expression so intense it conveyed more than she wanted to know. Her resolve buckled under the intensity of it all, as the confession lay real and raw between them, fragile to the touch like the seeds of a dandelion about to be scattered to the wind. She couldn’t deal with this. In the silence she tried to hold onto every shattered promise he’d ever made, wrapped herself around the hope that he would take it back when the time came, and also, that he didn’t see in her eyes that which she could see in his. 

“I can’t,” she whispered. "I'm sorry." 

She shook her head, ready to turn away, but he caught her by the elbow, spun her back to face him.

She gasped, unprepared for the feel of his lips coming down on hers. A firm hand on the small of her back holding her close, demanding, pleading for her to give in. Her mind protested, roared for her to push back, and to not talk of this incident ever again. But her mind wasn’t wholly in charge any longer, and while a silent thought logged itself between what she knew to be right, and what she wanted to be wrong, the woman that existed behind the captain’s mask had had enough. As his hand slid up her neck, and tangled in her hair, drawing her ever closer to his chest, the captain lost the battle. Her mouth parted where his tongue had been pushing against her lips for access, and on a moan she relented, pressed closer, losing all sense of reality.


End file.
